


Miss B'Sayle, I Presume?

by softly_speaking_valkyrie



Series: Femslash February 2019 [16]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alluring, Bar Fight, Crack, Dates, Day 16, Dorky Ryder, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, Fluff, Kissing, Love, Roleplay, Romance, Romantic setting, Sapphic, Sexual Roleplay, Spiced Up, Spicy Love, all fluff, but no sex, dorky, mild crack, passionate kissing, roleplaying, rybee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 00:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_speaking_valkyrie/pseuds/softly_speaking_valkyrie
Summary: Femslash February Day 16! To spice up both their sex life and their shore leave now that Helius has quietened down, Peebee and Ryder elect to roleplay a small scenario while at port on Kadara, pretending their strangers and that Sara is a contact for Peebee to get something she lost. However, being as dorky as she is, Ryder ends up spoiling the facade right as a group of Charlatan loyalists decide to pick a fight. Luckily, Nakmor Drack follows wherever violence is when in Kadara...





	Miss B'Sayle, I Presume?

Peebee waited at the bar on Kadara, in the pirate port, her eyes still smoked over with the alluring dark ink of her facial brand. Most Asari elected to have them, and most seemed to display a different pattern on the deep blue scales of their faces. Some reflected markings of the ancient Asari, while others were gang or faction brands. Others were no different to human tattoos – outwardly meaningless pieces on the body that would only hold real meaning to the wearer. No one had yet learned the truth as to which one Pelessaria’s all dark mark covering her piercing eyes were.

She waited alone, sipping from a drink of low-brand pirate swill, sweetening it with her own flash of sweetener from her pocket. It didn’t make it much more tasteful but did make it bearable as she eyed Nakmor Drack across the bar, seated in a secluded corner and observing the armed men, women and others around the mess of the bar. Those well-armed individuals were laughing, chugging down the bland beer and slapping each other on the backs and on the knees. The noise was drowning almost and the Krogan grumbled to himself in his corner as his head began to pound. He buried himself in a Varren leg and washed it down with another bottle of the beer himself.

The alluring Asari ignored the pirates and kept to herself, standing at the bar with an air of confidence and mysterious beauty about her, checking her omni-tool every now and again to check the progress of her latest project simmering away on  _ Tempest. _

She was waiting. Waiting for a contact that had explained to her that they had something she wanted.

Living the life that Pelessaria had, in both The Milky Way and in Andromeda, she took every meeting and audience presented to her when those words reached her. If someone had something she wanted, then she wanted it bad enough to risk her life in a seedy place on the seediest planet.

The contact was late as well, of course they were. In an exposed and vulnerable situation such as this, of course, the mysterious contact was late, if coming at all. This could all be a rig, a con or a trap, composed to lure the daring Asari to her death, with her Krogan uncle-like friend from her new family here to die with her.

“Busy place today, isn’t it?” Someone said behind her. Peebee’s senses flared with a gentle thrill of excitement and yet apprehension that this was the person who sought her.

“Sloane must be hosting some kind of execution or party. These guys would meet over a Kett weather balloon,” Peebee talked back behind her, sipping on the sweetened swill and grimacing at the taste again. She thought it would be somehow more pleasurable to the taste but the surprising bitterness tickled her nostrils as she swallowed.

The body now behind her set down a credit chit and then a small device for another purpose, pressing a button. “A recorder? Wanna use this later to get off to?” Peebee teased the contact, sipping again. She needed another drink and quick. She called for the bartender’s attention and pointed to the Serrice Iced Brandy.

“This will be necessary, Pelessaria. Do you have what I called for?” The mysterious stranger asked, a feminine yet brave and profaned voice curling the words as they entered Peebee’s ears.

Sipping the Iced Brandy made Peebee feel bolder, she bit her lip and smiled counter-intuitively. “Already getting to the chase? But you haven’t even offered to buy me a drink yet, and you were late after all. Shame on you...”

“But the shuttle was late from the wildlands... And you told me not to buy you a drink even though you asked...” The contact told, turning around and breaking character entirely as she looked at the stunning tentacles of the back of Peebee’s head.

The Asari sighed and spun around to face Ryder (the mysterious contact was her girlfriend and lover). “Ugh, Ryder!” She cried, almost flopping and losing all confidence and pleasure to her body language. She was sapped of the enjoyment of the scene they were playing now that Ryder had broken character completely and so poorly too – she was like an oblivious dork, unable to tell when Peebee was in her character and when not because the visage of the Asari Ryder knew so well was o much like the real thing.

“What? I didn’t do anything! You told me not to get you drinks, babe,” Ryder pointed out again, still oblivious to where she’d gone completely wrong with her lover and their scene.

They were role-playing. Helius was quiet, the Kett were silent and the Kadaran pirates had even lulled all across the sector since Sloane had struck a bargain for her life with Ryder out in the wilderness over the gambit of the Charlatan. Now was the time for downtime, for living as and with the Human Pathfinder. To seek new thrills to their lives and stoke the fires of their sexual lives, Ryder and Peebee had set up a small scene, where they would meet in public and act like strangers, Ryder taking up the role of a contact wanting a piece of Remtech from Peebee. After a deal well struck, the two would return to  _ Tempest _ with a fiery passion in them, and Ryder would take Peebee in her escape pod again. The fantasy was one the Asari could hardly keep contained.

And now Ryder had ruined it.

Peebee lowered her head with her palm over her marked eyes as to how oblivious and innocent Ryder actually was. “Ryder...” She droned, losing brain cells it seemed.

“Hey!” Shouted another voice from the group of laughing pirates. It was directed exactly at Ryder and Peebee; Drack stopped devouring his roasted Varren leg in the corner and grabbed the stemmed neck of his large bottle of beer. All of their weapons were at the door – Ryder and Peebee hadn’t come in with any, as  _ Tempest _ was docked just outside. Drack had a shotgun, two assault rifles, three heavy hand cannons, a set of submachine guns, a light machine gun, an energy beam sniper rifle and a belt rung of grenades with the bouncer at the door of the bar, but they were not in his hands as he grunted to his feet as the group of several pirates began to straighten and surround the Pathfinder and her girlfriend.

Ryder rose up, puffing her chest under her exploration armoured suit and looked the pirated fiercely with Peebee to the side of her, pulling a curved thumb blade from the outer webbing of her fingerless gloves. The Asari often held concealed small arms upon her person; Ryder even kept a secret pistol in the small and undetectable compartment in her boot.

“Aren’t you that Hyperion Pathfinder? The one that made the deal with the degenerate, Sloane?”

Ryder did not back down as she felt Peebee clutching her hand behind her back. Suddenly the role-play did not matter at all, and as they faced down the pirates, all the mattered was togetherness. Neither saw Drack repositioning himself behind the three or four pirates, two bottles in his hands to be smashed over their heads. The rest of the bar was relatively quiet with the pirate drowning out their small talk with his bombastic voice and booming bravado.

“We all know that the Charlatan would’ve made a better Kadara for everybody!” One of the rear pirates called out, the leader at the front nodded his head.

With his masked helmet covering his face, he squared up the Pathfinder.

“Pathfinder. I recommend vacating the premises. I am detecting concealed weapons in plates of their armour ready to be deployed,” SAM said into Ryder’s head. She told him no in response, now seeing Drack flanking the group.

Without another word, as the leading pirate glared at Ryder, they all heard the combined clatter of the smashing and glass bottles over their heads. The two at the leader’s back slumped and fell to the floor in sodden motions. The elderly Krogan smiled at Ryder and Peebee, leered at the remaining pirate and showed his snarling gnashers. “I fought in the Krogan Rebellions and I got the scars to prove it, lily,” he threatened the pirate, who immediately ran for the door.

Peebee sheathed her knife, gripping Ryder’s hands and turning her so they could finally kiss. It was passionate and telling the Peebee wanted her Pathfinder. Putting their foreheads together, Peebee giggled a little. “What’s say we get out of here, Ryder?” She whispered in a cheery voice.

“Thought you’d never ask...” Ryder smiled goofily before kissing Peebee closely and passionately once again.


End file.
